


feinting extended

by 221B_johnlock_st



Series: fencing mystrade [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Dancing, Fencing, Fluff, M/M, Short, Slow Dancing, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Mycroft, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_johnlock_st/pseuds/221B_johnlock_st
Summary: the extended version of feinting--Mycroft a distant relative of the royal family, but royalty all the same. Greg is his fencing teacher, and when Mycroft has trouble with the footing of a move uses dancing to teach him





	feinting extended

  
Mycroft didn’t have many friends growing up. His pale skin and bright ginger hair made him the target of most of the childish insults his classmate could muster. After his parents had caught word of the harassment they had decided to pull the young boy from school at the age of 14 and tutor him privately. He already had an hour of tutoring after school because his family thought it was important for him to be well educated. One thing had come from the homeschooling that he despised, physical education. He had scoffed at the name when his mother had mentioned it. You don't need brain cells to understand how to catch a ball, and therefore it shouldn’t be considered education at all, but both of his parents insisted. After four years of the torture, his parent had sat him down and told him if he picked a sport to pursue they would cut it from his curriculum and allow him to take another government class. He was slightly upset; his parents had chosen to change it solely because his younger brother was complaining, something that he had done for years. He was still happy that he could choose something easy so he could focus on his last few months of schooling.

  
Mycroft enjoyed many of his after-school tasks, but there were a few that he prefered to the rest. His piano lessons were always a nice beginning to the day, and he never had a problem with the teachers that his parents hired for him, other than their incompetence that is, but he could glance over that. He didn’t particularly like the sport or any sport, but it was his only option to get out of his horrendous P.E class. Team sports were out of the question, as well as anything that involved him taking his shirt off. He had tried to convince his parents to let him play frisbee golf. It sounded stupid but it was more desirable than something like weightlifting. His parents had seen what he was trying to do and threatened to put him in football if he didn't make up his mind soon, so he went with the first acceptable option that came to his mind; fencing.

  
He started his lessons tomorrow and he wasn’t exactly happy about it. He had been informed before heading to bed that it would cut into his piano lessons. He layed in bed and thought about what his instruction would look like. Thirty-five or older surely, someone just outside of their prime clinging desperately to the idea that they could continue the sport. The doesn’t imagine they will get along well; his parents no doubt hired someone overqualified to teach a sport that he fully intended to treat as a hobby. He would be civil and try, but he knows it's something that he wouldn’t be looking forward to every day.

  
Mycroft got up the next day with plenty of time to spare before his piano lesson, so he took a long shower and sat on his balcony that overlooked the rolling English hills with a book. When the time came he pulled himself away from the book and dressed before heading to the lesson room. His piano lesson was enjoyable, as always, he was working on Elspark’s clair de lune which was pleasantly challenging. When he was done he had 15 minutes before he had to be in the gym area.  
He was in a bit of a bad mood because his piano lesson had been cut back an hour to fit the practice into his schedule. He had worked himself up about meeting his new instructor who would no doubt judge him for his sluggish ways. He opened the door to the small personal gym and was met with a surprise. As far as royalty goes Mycroft was by no means spoiled, and he was expecting a personal trainer, but he was expecting someone a little bit older than the man he was met with.  
A stunning, not older than twenty years old stood awkwardly, facing away from him a toward the main doors. Mycroft had come in unnoticed. After the initial shock wore off Mycroft scuffed his shoe on the floor causing the other man to spin around quickly.

  
“You must be Mycroft.” The other man stated with a smile on his face.

  
“Yes,” He replied simply raising his hand “Hello…” He paused realizing he didn't know the other man’s name, but his hand was quickly gripped and shock strongly

  
“Gregory, but everyone calls me Greg.” Mycroft took that moment to look the other man over. He had straight brown hair that was pushed back slightly and dark brown eyes. His jaw was soft and had a certain kindness to it that matched well with the smile his lips held. He was quite handsome.

  
“Well, hello Greg, where would you like to begin?” He looked around the room and saw the equipment his parents had purchased in the corner, and then back to his new instructor.

  
“I was thinking just getting to know each other a little bit before we started if that's okay with you.” He looked nervous but confident.  
They talked for a little while and Mycroft learned that Greg had crushed his leg in a car crash a year ago which had effectively ruined his up and coming career. He also learned that Greg had started at the police academy a few months back and had jumped at the chance to teach someone about a sport he loved as well as get some money for rent. After they were done talking Greg taught him the names of the equipment and how to properly hold the foil.

  
Throughout the next few months, the two formed an unlikely friendship, and Mycroft developed a little bit of a crush on the older man.

  
Today they were working on Feinting, it was a pretty basic move, but because of the footwork, something Mycroft lacked at, it was a move he couldn’t perfect. It started off fine, but after he tripped over his own feet for the 10th time he got frustrated and began jabbing a Gregory with no technique, and was quickly defeated by the professional.  
“Come on My, you were doing so well, in the beginning, you can’t give up now” Mycroft's heart fluttered at the nickname, and it helped to bring his spirits up, but not by much.

  
“The footing is too hard let's move on to something else” Mycroft took off his mask and went to grab a drink of water.

“No, you're going to get this.” Greg joined him on the bench “You dance, right?” Mycroft shot him a glare

  
“Is that some kind of joke” Greg shook his head “Of Course I dance, I may not be Prince Henry, but I am still royalty.”

  
“Right well it’s just like that.” Greg got up and walked over to his bag and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker and his phone. “Here I'll show you.” Mycroft watched Greg set up the speakers on the pile floor mats that Sherlock, his brother used when he had Hand to Hand combat practice.

  
When Greg was done he walked over to Mycroft and bowed, offering his hand “May I have this dance?” He looked up through his eyelashes and sent Mycroft a smile. He couldn’t help but smile and put his hand in the older mans. Greg pulled him into a standing position.

  
“I’ll lead,” Greg said as he let his other hand slid around Mycroft's waist and he felt Mycroft's hand fall on his biceps. The music started and they started to flow around the small gym with ease. Greg lends closer to Mycroft's ear. “In fencing your opponent it like a dancing partner. You have to go with them, predict their move before it happens so you aren't stuck one step behind.” Greg smiled a little more when he saw the hairs on the back of Mycrofts' neck stand on end.  
“Right” Mycroft squeaked, before clearing his thoughts and playing it off as his voice cracking.

  
“Sometime’s they will surprise you,” Greg said before spinning Mycroft out and pulling him back in “But you just have to go with it, and recover.” He could feel Mycroft's head nod against the side of his head.

  
“They might check you by surprise” Greg biped him effortlessly, keeping his face close “And sometimes your body will tell you exactly what to do, and you’ll just know it’s right even if you don’t know why.” Greg searched the younger man's eyes. At some point, Mycroft’s hands migrated from his arm to the back of his neck, and when he felt the light brush of Mycroft's thumb he connected their lips in a slow kiss.

  
It was a new feeling for Mycroft but a delightful one but ended much too soon with the sound of gagging from the door. Greg drew away quickly and nearly dropped Mycroft but made sure he was on his own two feet before putting space between them.

  
“That was disgusting, I need to wash my eyes out with bleach. What will Mommy say when she finds out you’ve scarred me for life.” Sherlock said dramatically at the entrance while shielding his eyes with his hand.

  
“Mommy will never find out about this unless of course, you wouldn’t mind her knowing exactly what you and John get up to when he comes over to study.” Mycroft shot back. Sherlock removed his hand from his face while the blush spread through his cheeks

  
“You wouldn't” Sherlock argues

  
“Do you really want to take that risk?” Mycroft cocks his eyebrow

 

  
“Fine, Mommy sent me to see if Gram wanted to stay for dinner since you’re practice ran late”

  
“Gregory” Mycroft corrected him unconsciously while he looked over at the clock to see that it was indeed 7:30, he also noticed the heavy rain outside the window.

  
“Well we can’t send him home in this weather, can we. He may just have to stay the night.” Mycroft smirked and turned to Greg “Only if you want obviously.”

  
“Of course” Greg returned with a smile of his own

  
“I swear to god if I hear ANYTHING,”

Sherlock said with a look of disgust.

  
“Our rooms are on opposite sides of the house, Sherlock.” Mycroft rebutted

  
“Still” he huffed and walked out the door.


End file.
